


A Moment's Reprieve

by PaladinAstarte



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: At least post Legion, Comfort, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Snowball Fight, vague timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28567302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaladinAstarte/pseuds/PaladinAstarte
Summary: Anduin dislikes how much of a habit he has of escaping the pressures of courtly life, but he is not alone in that craving for distraction - if only for an evening.
Relationships: Darion Mograine & Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	A Moment's Reprieve

Perhaps it was unkinglike, but Anduin Wrynn needed to divorce himself from the pressures of rulership and politics. He'd done so enough times that he practically had the guard rotations memorized by heart. More than that, he grew up in this city, he knew its back alleys and secret coves like the back of his hand.

But Anduin was not foolish enough to leave unarmed. A small dagger was slipped onto his belt and he made his way through the snow-jacketed gardens of the Keep. The dark clouds had dispersed for the evening, allowing for the brilliant duel moons of Azeroth to illuminate the garden. 

Anduin turned the corner past a hedge and abruptly came face to face with a similarly hooded figure dressed in ebony robes. The High King blinked in stunned silence and the other figure blinked. Instantly, both knew precisely why the other was there.

Both meant to take some brief respite from the stresses of duty. The Death Knight Highlord looked at the King, his unnaturally glowing Lich blue eyes gave the king an obvious once over. 

"I won't tell if you don't." Anduin offered quickly, sounding less like a king and more like a child with a co-conspirator. 

Mograine gave a single nod, "Agreed." 

Despite himself, Anduin couldn't help but play the conscientious host. "How are you finding the Royal Gardens? Are they to your liking?"

"I imagine they'd be a might prettier if they weren't covered by snow, but they're decent I suppose. A change of pace from the Plaguelands." Mograine answered without missing a beat.

"You don't mince words."

"Never been the kind to do so, King Wrynn. I was raised among warriors and paladins. I never had much use for diplomacy and the Scourge plaguing Lordaeron were not particularly given to reason."

"Anduin, please." The King went on a little stiffly and cleared his throat, attempting to sound as diplomatic as possible, "You may not have had much use for it, but you have a deft hand at it."

The Highlord merely shrugged and turned back the way he came, around the corner was a bench where he'd dusted off the snow and sat down in quiet contemplation. Feeling a little awkward to leave it at that, Anduin followed him. 

"May I join you?" 

Mograine gestured to the seat beside him and Anduin sat.

"So what particular difficulty are you attempting to flee today? Or is it just a custom of yours to sneak out alone and unguarded to mingle with the people?" The Death Knight asked, his tone metallic and neutral.

Anduin's brow creased a little, a mix of amusement and annoyance. "Why do I feel as though that question is a trap, Highlord Mograine?"

Mograine shrugged again. "I'm just trying to make polite conversation with a fellow wanderer. Tirion Fordring often encouraged me to quote 'stop being such an ass' unquote - so that is what I attempt. Even if my efforts are... somewhat _lacking_ lately. And there's no need for titles, 'Darion' is fine."

Anduin noticed the fractional hesitation when his companion spoke the name. The tiniest hitch in tone that implied grief. The young Kind immediately empathized with the man. Whatever fates ran this world had taken so much, from the Legion turning the world into a charnel house to the Fourth Great War renewing the slaughter.

It should have been an obvious thing, that the Death Knights of Acherus would still experience and feel emotion like their living brothers and sisters in the Alliance and Horde. But the thought had never occurred to Anduin, and he felt ashamed for not realizing that fact sooner.

"Darion then. I suppose to answer your question, its a mix of both. I'd like some... small distraction from the griefs and woes of the court. And by moving among the people, I can see how they feel about those in power. It keeps me grounded and lets me assess my strengths and failings."

Mograine made an approving sound in the back of his throat.

"What about you? Why did you come out here?"

"I couldn't sleep." Mograine answered simply, when he noticed Anduin's expression he continued, "To preempt your next question, Death Knights don't require food, drink or even sleep. To the point where partaking in such indulgences earned a swift execution when we were enslaved to Arthas's Scourge. But some of my Ebon Blade find it relaxing to _revive_ those habits if you'll pardon the pun."

"And you?" Anduin questioned,

Mograine raised an eyebrow to him. Without the cold saronite faceplate it was easy to see the amusement on his forever young face. "I thought you were attempting to _escape_ your courtly duties for the evening, not embrace them?"

It was Anduin's turn to shrug. "That may be so. But it _is_ my duty to know what my subjects are feeling. I'm aware of where you and the Knights of the Ebon Blade stand. As a whole you consider yourselves completely neutral in the scheme of global politics, but some of your men, I believe they call themselves the Unbound, have rejoined the Alliance and fight along side their countrymen. And its my duty to know of their burdens and their hopes."

Mograine cocked an eyebrow at him, "You think that its worries, fears and other such minutiae that's preventing my sleep?"

Again, Anduin shrugged. "I imagine it can't be easy to keep so diverse a group of warriors from tearing itself apart. Especially given the circumstances that brought you together."

"We haven't been without our own internal schisms and conflicts, this is true. Ours just don't resort to open bloodshed." Mograine countered then shook his head, "Our goals align. From the very bottom of our hearts, we wish to preserve Azeroth through whatever means necessary. But as you say - some of my Knights have chosen to fully dedicate themselves back to their home factions in that goal. That is precisely how the Unbound came to be; a compromise between those who chose to remain and those who depart. They are have forsworn no oaths, but they are not bound to the staunch neutrality of the greater order. Unless more pressing matters afflict us on a grand scale."

"Such as the Legion?" 

"Aye." Mograine nodded,

Anduin's lips pressed in a thin disapproving line. "So even death does not free one from politics." 

"You could try summary executions, but I fear you'd be finding missives from hell on your desk before morning."

The King chuckled, a little unnerved by the dark humour.

"But if you must know the answer to your question truthfully: The bed's too soft." Mograine said simply.

Anduin blinked, wrong footed. "I beg your pardon?"

Mograine looked the King in the eye and gestured vaguely to the keep, "The bed. Its too soft. When I lay down for rest I feel as though I'm going to be swallowed by the damn thing."

Anduin couldn't help but laugh. Not because the comment itself was funny, but the incredulity of the statement. "I... I'm sorry Darion, I don't mean to laugh."

"Laugh away, its a foolish thing." Mograine waved a dismissive hand, not at all offended. In fact, he was threatening to smirk.

"But," Anduin composed himself. "But it is an understandable thing. When my father returned he had... _similar_ problems. More often than not, servants would find him sleeping on the floor of his chambers. They'd try to call for healers, fearing him gripped by fever or malaise, only to be embarrassed when they learned it was just more comfortable for him. It's... funny, but also a sad thing I feel."

"Mm. Perhaps." Mograine answered with a noncommittal tone.

A silent fell upon them which dragged on while Anduin looked at the sky, the twin moons shining brightly while Mograine was toying with a clump of ice crystals in his cold palm.

"Are you enjoying the garden then?" Anduin prompted lamely, then cursed himself for lacking any subjects to discuss. But nothing readily came to mind beyond discussing politics and similar avenues.

"I like it well enough. I confess to feeling a bit homesick and this place... well." He let the sentence trail of and Anduin hesitated before probing some more.

"Northrend?" He certainly hoped not, but if he offended his counterpart then Mograine gave no sign of it.

"No. Tirisfal." Mograine answered honestly. "The winters were brutally cold, and the snow would cover everything. I had an older brother, we fought like cats and dogs all the time. But whenever it snowed, it was almost like that enmity was forgotten and we'd just play as siblings would. I suppose that sometimes I miss those simpler halcyon days. And I cannot randomly decide to challenge my Knights to a snowball fight for risk to my reputation."

It was a comment said in jest, but there was a thread of truth behind it. Amusing as it was, it wouldn't do for the most powerful of the Death Knights to be seen as anything less than intimidating. Though Anduin thought it would go a long way to expound the humanity - the souls - that still dwelt within these undead Champions of Azeroth, he would not tell the man how to run his own people.

"I'll keep your confidence." Anduin promised.

"Just as I will tell no one of this little escapade." Mograine agreed.

The King cleared his throat and rose to depart. "I suppose I'd best be off then. The rotations will change soon and that will make it a good deal harder for me to sneak off."

"Suffer well, Anduin." Mograine said by way of farewell.

Anduin didn't know what compelled him to do it, but instead of turning the corner to proceed on his midnight quest, he halted by one of the snow-covered hedges. Sinister smile growing, he quietly gathered clumps of snow, fashioning them into a solid ball. Smile still present, he turned back around and threw it at Mograine. The snow splattered across his face and hood. The Highlord flinched at the impact, eyes shot wide in stunned shock as he reeled around to look at the king. A second later his composure was iron.

Mograine pushed back his hood with one hand and pawed the slurry from his face. His expression an unreadable mask. "I counted you as many things, Anduin. I never considered foolish to be one of them."

Good humour evaporated along with Anduin's good natured smile. He'd misjudged the situation and cursed himself for it. He thought they were developing a good rapport. The childish spark was gone, replaced by the diplomatic High King of Stormwind as he approached the Death Knight leader.

"Forgive me, I hadn't intended to-"

The dead had never moved so swiftly. Mograine spun, vicious grin on his face, and pegged a snowball right at Anduin's face. With full strength... at not four paces away.

The King fell back hard into a hedge, the snow dislodging and crashing over his head in a shower of white. Mograine stood, still wearing a shameless grin with another clump of snow rolling between his palms. No longer the intimidatingly Highlord of the Ebon Blade, but a mischievous late teenager.

"You made a tactical mistake by standing there Wrynn. And now you've just started a war you're _not_ gonna win."

Anduin's own grin returned, fingers curling around fistfuls of snow. "We'll see."

* * *

Greymane had his reservations about allowing a Death Knight to linger in these halls. Their order may have been crucial to the defeat of the Lich King but they were... _controversial_ to many.

But as he watched Anduin and Mograine from a balcony overlooking the garden just out of sight, he couldn't help the treacherous curl of his lips. Snowballs and good natured insults were flying like arrows, back and forth between the two combatants.

It reminded him of simpler days, days when Tess and Liam would play together as youths before fate played its hand and took one from the world. 

Greymane was content to watch, allowing the two young men to have their fun before the dawn of the new day and their duties recalled them to action.

**Author's Note:**

> This bromance has been living rent-free in my head for days now. Enjoy a little snowball fight between these two teenaged gremlins. :P
> 
> Feedback is appreciated! :D


End file.
